


Oversight

by unspeakable3



Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [84]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Regulus Black, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Regulus Black-centric, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wordcount: 100-500, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21546037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspeakable3/pseuds/unspeakable3
Summary: There were eyes everywhere, in Grimmauld Place.
Relationships: Black Family & Black Family (Harry Potter), Regulus Black & Black Family
Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [84]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1395592
Kudos: 35





	Oversight

There were eyes everywhere, in Grimmauld Place.

Father always knew when you were kicking your feet under the dinner table, even if he looked like he was reading the newspaper. Sirius thought that Father’s eyes could see through wood - an idea that was terrible enough - but Regulus suspected that he was a more powerful Legilimens than anyone in the family realised, which was infinitely _more_ terrifying.

Mother knew almost everything that happened under her roof, and if she didn’t, Kreacher or the portraits would tell her.

Kreacher skulked about from room to room, hiding in shadowy corners or else Apparating silently to surprise you when you least expected it. Regulus was kind to him, and the house-elf was kind in return, but there was no escape from the portraits.

They lined the walls of every room - even the _bathrooms_ , to Regulus’s eternal horror - and whispered to each other as you walked past. They would flit between the frames, trading gossip about what the youngest of the Blacks were doing wrong these days, boasting about what better children _they_ had been, complaining that Mother and Father were not doing enough to discipline their errant sons.

There was one place where the portraits and Kreacher and Mother and Father couldn’t reach them, and that was the rooftop. A small, flat space of roof that lay between Regulus and Sirius’s bedrooms on the top floor of the townhouse, with loose tiles that were perfect for hiding contraband (Sirius’s) and secret messages (Regulus’s).

But even here the brothers were still under observation because at night - and sometimes even in the daytime - the stars shone brightly, persevering through London’s grey clouds and hazy light. And for a Black, the stars were not always a source of comfort. For a Black, every star and constellation was an ancestor. A previous Black who had behaved better, achieved more, _shone more brightly_ than either of them could ever hope to do.

Every star was a reminder that they were being watched, and being judged.


End file.
